Michael Jecks - The Butcher of St Peter's

‘Jordan told him to rest at the cathedral for a day or so and make good use of the chapter’s hospitality, and then claim that his money had been stolen there.’

‘The ungrateful … I shall have him arrested,’ the Dean muttered.

‘He has left the city already. I should permit him to go and count yourself fortunate that so few people think of such schemes!’ Baldwin said with a chuckle. ‘After all, he cost you nothing, and he has himself been robbed, if by another person.’

‘Why did Jordan do this?’

‘It permitted him to raise doubts in the minds of others. And he made use of the best means of telling people. He knew how the friars had been shamed by the discovery that one of their brethren had stolen money; he decided to show them that the cathedral had a thief too. The friars were delighted to think that they had a means of exacting revenge on the cathedral, and went about the city telling all their audiences that the cathedral was harbouring a felon. And then, when the cathedral went and took the body …’

‘That wasn’t his fault, I suppose?’ the Dean asked hopefully.

‘The Prior did say that he had mentioned the death of Sir William. It struck him how similar the situation was to the death of Sir Henry Ralegh twenty years ago, and he, I think, hoped that a hothead might commit a similar offence. And so it came to pass.’

‘Because the fool Peter was told to by Jordan?’

‘That is how I should read the tale.’

The Dean sat silently for a few moments. ‘This man has much to answer for.’

Baldwin nodded. ‘A great deal. And a few of those matters are the murders of Daniel and Mick, and the suicide of Anne.’

‘He is an incomparably evil man,’ the Dean said.

‘Perhaps so,’ Baldwin said. ‘We should know before long.’

Betsy opened the doors with a small yawn. She was getting too old for the game. Already the sun was well up and she hadn’t done anything yet.

It was the way of life for girls like her, though. They’d sleep and doze through the day, unless someone came in with an urgent itch for scratching, and then they’d set to work properly in the evening. Each man coming in in the evening had his woman for the night. That was the rule, and each had to satisfy her client as often as he asked. Not always an easy task, it was true, but the girls tended to do their best. Especially now.

Betsy had tried to keep her from their gaze, but several of them had gone in to look at Anne’s ravaged features after she died. There was something compulsive about seeing how Jordan would punish any of them for the crime of wanting to take one man for her own. Anne had been popular in the house, and the idea that someone could destroy her so completely was appalling to many of the girls. Betsy had even seen old Mark, the man who had been at the South Gate when Anne had left the city that last morning. He had come with a small gift, a bunch of flowers, which he had set by her head.

No one was unaffected. Betsy could see it in their eyes. There was a new haunted look in the faces of the girls. The older ones now realized that they truly couldn’t escape this place. Not while Jordan was there. Not while he wanted them. The younger girls understood what they had become — nothing more than the property of a man who saw them in the same light as a herd of cows. They had value to him, but every so often the less productive members could be culled for the good of the rest.

Betsy heard a low whimper, and at the sound she seemed to feel a cold hand clutch at her throat, tightening like a steel gauntlet. She could sense icy waves floating down her spine, and she walked along the passageway slowly. The doorway was darker than most of the rest, and she hesitated before leaning forward to listen. There was a steady, sad weeping from behind it now, and her heart seemed to clench in her breast. She dared not enter. Not while he was still in there. Her hand lifted, her forefinger crooked to knock, but then she licked her lips. A picture of Anne’s face appeared in her mind, and the finger uncurled as she spun on her heel and stole away.

The shame burned her soul.

Baldwin and Simon took their leave of the Dean, and Sir Peregrine was somewhat surprised to see how they dawdled about leaving the close.

‘Should we not hurry to the man’s house?’ he burst out at last when the slowness of their progress grew intolerable. ‘This man is a murderer at least twice, and here we are, progressing more slowly than a nun crossing the threshold of a brothel!’

‘So you think,’ Simon said. ‘But there is no point hurrying to Jordan’s house just to wait there alongside the watchmen. If we must wait, this is as good a place as any. Then if Jordan le Bolle arrives home, the watchmen will send to tell us, and we can go to catch him together.’

‘And in the meantime,’ Baldwin said with a quickening interest, ‘we may just learn something from this man.’

Peregrine turned to see Henry walking towards them along the long pathway from the conduit.

He walked like a man in pain, his withered arm dangling at his side. His face was a mass of wrinkles, most of them caused by squinting in pain, and Sir Peregrine felt some sympathy for the man as he saw how his gait was affected.

‘Henry, I am grateful to you for coming here,’ Baldwin said.

‘The boy said you had something to say that would ease my mind.’

‘It is this: we think that we may know who the murderer of Daniel was; whether that is true or not, I feel sure that your friend was innocent of any crime.’

Sir Peregrine was about to protest when he caught sight of Baldwin’s eye on him. It seemed to him as though the knight was asking him to trust his judgement. He shrugged. There was little enough else to be done. Sir Peregrine had nothing better to advance for now. He had only two interests: the man Jordan, and later Juliana. Juliana! He was looking forward to seeing her again. At least the Keeper had stopped accusing her !

However, it seemed to him that Baldwin’s comments were rather strong. If the man thought his comrade would be safe if he appeared in public again, he was being far too hopeful. As far as Sir Peregrine was concerned, as soon as Est reappeared he would be attached and gaoled until the Justices of Gaol Delivery could hear his case. And then, if Sir Peregrine had anything to do with it, the man would be hanged quickly. Any man who routinely broke into other men’s houses to look at their children deserved the rope. Still, if Sir Baldwin wanted to tease the man out into the open, it would make his arrest all the more easy. Perhaps that was all the Keeper intended: to flush the man from his cover. The sooner the better, too. Sir Peregrine wanted to put the whole affair behind him so that the poor woman Juliana could be permitted to put it all behind her .

‘Henry? Could you tell him?’ Baldwin asked.

Henry was in two minds as to what to say. He didn’t know where Est was any more, and the thought that he might be found now, just when he might be thinking he was safe, was an abhorrent idea. Poor Est. Devastated after the death of his child and his wife, he could never know any peace because of the actions of another man.

‘I don’t know where he is,’ he admitted. ‘He was up at a place he and I know, but he wasn’t there the last few times I went to check. I’ll see if I can find him.’

‘You do that,’ Baldwin said, but not harshly. ‘He has been evilly served. It is time he received a little compensation.’

Mazeline glanced out through the window, and immediately saw the two men waiting, just as her bottler had said.

There was a wonderful lightness to her spirit this morning. She felt as though she was almost free of all her troubles. Even Jane; Mazeline had asked her cousins to take the child overnight, and they had taken Jane to sleep with them. The men outside must surely be there to arrest her husband, and although she was not sure what crimes he was guilty of, she was certain there were enough felonies to see him hanged.